“No one is here to tell me to go easy on you.” He winks at me, and I just shake my head. “Golden boy, my ass,” he continues, and I skate around in a circle before skating over to the puck and making the play. I’ve been practicing against Ralph for the past five years. He got drafted to Edmonton the year before me, and when you are number one on the team, they make you train with the number one defenseman, and that is Ralph. His eyes aren’t on the puck; instead, his eyes are on me. Another thing he does better than anyone is read the play. I skate to the right, and the puck hits the blade of my stick. I skate to the left, and my eyes go to Ralph, who skates backward never leaving or moving with me. My hands slide the puck right and left as I make my way down the ice, and I move more to the right. Once I pass the blue line, I pick up speed, and he stops skating and makes me move right to left to see which way he is going to go. His body is now close to mine, and he knows that if he gives me just a touch more space, I’m going to slap in the puck. But he doesn’t; instead, he sticks out his stick and tries to poke check me, giving me just enough room to shoot the puck under his raised hand and into the net. The kids on the bench cheer loudly, making Ralph laugh and then push me away. “You got lucky.”

“No such thing as luck.” I wink at him this time and skate back to the bench as the horn sounds, letting us know it’s time to rotate the groups. “Okay, that’s it for you guys.” I watch them walk off to the changing area and then feel Ralph looking at me while he drinks some water. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just wondering if Justin Stone has finally met his match?” I’ve been asking myself that same question.

I shrug at him. “No fucking clue. The only thing I know is that I can’t walk away.”

“Don’t tell me that the biggest bachelor in hockey is finally going to be taken?” He goads me with the title that I’ve gotten through the years, making me roll my eyes and look away. I skate off the ice and see that it’s lunchtime. Unlacing my skates, I walk outside, pulling my phone out of my pocket to call Caroline. My hands suddenly get clammy. I wait for her to answer, and when she does on the third ring, it sounds like she’s out of breath.

“Hey,” I say softly and then hear traffic in the background.

“Hey,” she says, and it almost sounds like she’s running.